The Legend of Spyryo: Gateway to Destruction
by silo2130
Summary: The death of Malefor should have brought peace to the realm, issuing forth two new dragons into the world. But the gates have been opened and evil is on the rise again. Darkness is spreading over the land, is there any hope for peace?
1. Chapter 1

**Previously named Arc of Scorn**

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><p>The morning light crept silently over the horizon of Avalar. The land had changed, it had changed neither for the better nor for worse, but it had changed none the less. Caves onceexplored now needed to be remarked, paths that had been demolished now needed to be re-routed throughout Avalar. For the most part, Warfang had been almost untouched by and thousands of citizens, by order of the new head guardian Terrador, had been sent out in search for their heroes, Spyro and Cynder.<p>

It had been nearly a week since they had last seen the two dragons. Both of them crossed the Belt of Fire left by the Destroyers path, supposedly fought and killed Malefor, and pulled the world back together. Terrador, much like the rest of the guardians and the dozens of search parties sent out, believed Spyro, Cynder, and Ignitus to be dead.

There was no celebration, no cheering for their saved lives, and no positive moral for them to be happy about. Their leader was dead; his pupil possibly killed along with the once traitorous, but now allied Terror of the Skies. There was no reason for them to celebrate.

Sparx had taken the lead of many search parties. He had not slept in days, refused to eat, even though he was small and it wouldn't take him near as long to finish as the others. Any help from others was denied unless it involved finding his brother. The stress was building.

He had joked with his brother over the years, teasing him, calling him fat to make up for his size, saying witty comments to mess with him and annoy Cynder, but now that the realization of death was bearing down on him like a boulder upon his conscious. Now he wished he could take it all back.

Sparx was searching around the dragon temple aimlessly for a few hours now, one part of him wanted sleep but the other part wanted to gather another team of volunteers to help him, much to his disliking; they had already left or were not willing. Terrador was roaming around and had just found the little dragonfly. Terrador noticed his skulking and decided to walked with him. "Sparx, it's been almost a week now, don't you think you should take a break. Let us take charge for a while." Terrador coaxed.

Sparx rounded another corner of the dragon temple with the earth guardian and advanced through the hallway. "No." Sparx said plainly as Terrador followed in suite.

Volteer, the guardian of electricity, had been trailing behind them silently for a few minutes and decided to intervene with Terrador. "You do need sleep you know," He said suddenly, causing Terrador to twitch slightly from surprise. "Rest and rejuvenation is a necessity at a time like this, surely you must know that it is not healthy to be pressuring yourself like this, I remember one time when I was young I-"

"That's enough Volteer; thank you," Terrador cut Volteer off before he could continue another one of his rants. "But he is right; just go get some rest, if we find Spyro we will let you know first thing."

"Just leave me alone," Sparx shot back bitterly. He vibrated his wings faster and sped down the hallway till he rounded another corner out of sight.

Terrador sighed heavily. "What is the matter Terrador," Volteer asked. "Well, aside from the obvious, that is."

"It has been a week and not a single search party has seen either horn nor tail of Spyro or Cynder," Terrador said grimly. "My enthusiasm wasn't the greatest to start out with and now it's starting to diminish even further."

Volteer extended his wing so he could stop Terrador and smiled as he usually did. "Terrador, you of all people must know the consequences of bitter thought like that," he said with an unusual cheerfulness. "Maybe you need rest as well, hearing talk like that and from one of our bravest and strongest dragons!" Volteer raised his voice in his excitement. "Not to mention our most loyal," The electric guardian lowered his voice again when a few heads turned to see the commotion. "We need you right now Terrador, now more than ever, whether you realize it or not, but we do," Volteer smiled even wider as he finished his pep speech.

Terrador looked at Volteer. Dark bags were forming under his eyes. His eyes themselves were bloodshot and irritated from lack of sleep. He must have been up with one of the night parties, Terrador assumed. He smiled back, but only slightly. "Thank you," he said after a brief moment of silence. "I know that you are only trying to help, I am not denying that I am doubtful of their survival, but under the circumstances, even if they did survive, I do not believe they could have held out this long without food or water." Terrador lowered his head.

"Terrador," Volteer said. "You do not believe in them enough, only faith in their survival can pull us through. So what if we don't find them in another week, a month, a year? What does it matter if they are dead or not, all we can do now is search for them and hope for the very best," Volteer's smile widened. "I will dedicate the rest of my life to finding them if I must, and I hope that you will do the same."

Volteer sighed and walked off, ending the conversation on a rather sour note, much to Terrador's disliking. The sting of guilt swelled up in Terrador's chest making him sick to his stomach. Never before had anyone talked to him like that, not since Ignitus at least. He wanted to double over, sink to the floor and cry, cry like a newly born hatchling. Nobody had ever made him feel like this, so terrible, so worthless, and so insignificant to those around him. The world around him was trembling. Possibly because of his mixed emotions of pain and sorrow that he was bringing on himself, the temple seemed to beshaking. A slight tremor nothing more than that, nobody could feel it, nobody but him.

Terrador walked down the hall deep in thought over the short conversation with Volteer. He knew he was right, he should be more confident, maybe not as enthusiastic, but confident. He looked out onto an open balcony he was passing, clouds were forming over the horizon, and the faint blur of falling rain was making its way over the mountains in the East. The birds on the balcony had sensed the rain and descended down to their nests below. Terrador sighed again and continued on for several minutes, much like Sparx now, searching for something and nothing at the same time. Small tears began to swell in his eyes, too small for anyone to notice, but he could feel them. Heavier than any rock, tougher than any stone, his tears, but he would not let them go, not yet.

Terrador stopped in his aimless tracks whenever he felt the padding of small footsteps behind him. "Master Terrador," a voice called behind him. He quickly wiped his eyes and turned to the voice. A mole dressed in the normal head and chest plate armor was making his way down the hallway. "Master Terrador, it is about to rain Sir, I suggest that you make your way to your room."

"Th-Thank you, please, continue on your patrol if you wish," Terrador answered quickly.

The messenger saluted the guardian. "Thank you, Sir," he said and shuffled past him. Terrador turned around as the mole began to walk off. Just before the mole reached the four-way corridor he stopped and turned back to Terrador. "You know Sir, I do not know if it is appropriate for me to say this but I believe I must. This is a tough time for all of us. I do not know what ties you have with Master Spyro and Mistress Cynder, but please keep your spirits high, for the moral of course." The mole saluted Terrador again and disappeared from sight.

Terrador felt the vibrations again, this time even more fierce than before. The small tremors shook him; the ground around him, the world was shaking. Reluctantly, he took the moles advice and made his way back to his room. Only when he had reached the door did he realize. Small pebbles from the walls were falling to the floor; dust from the ceiling was falling down onto his head. He was not doing it, if he did he would have stopped, but it wasn't him, the world _was _shaking.

"Everyone, together now! We need to move those rocks!" A cheetah shouted through the thunder and pouring rain. His fur was soaked and his muscles were sore. Only an hour ago he had sent a messenger back to the dragon temple to tell them, to tell everyone, they had found them.

It was a week since the world ended and was reborn, how they found them, only the ancestors knew. They were piled under nearly a thousand pounds of rock and debris from the world, no food, light, or water for a week would surely mean that they were barely alive, if even that. A cheetah had noticed an irregular formation of rocks by a once marked cave, when he went to explore he heard shouts from the other side, Cynder. He wasted no time in getting the rest of his search party and began digging out the two dragons.

"Help," Cynder shouted louder than before.

A mole threw away another rock and shouted back to his superior, "Sir, we can hear her!"

"Well don't stop now! Dig," the cheetah shouted back as he dug his bloodied claws into the rocks again and began to throw them aside.

"They're alive," Terrador shouted. The messenger had just arrived bringing the good news. The messenger had quickly found all three guardians and requested an urgent meeting with them in private.

"Yes Sir, Cynder and supposedly Spyro are alive in a cave east of here, just south of the mountains," the cheetah answered.

"Are you sure it's them," Cyril asked from his designated spot around the pool of visions.

The cheetah nodded, "Please, Sirs, we cannot waste anymore time here, if they haven't died starvation or dehydration than we should move immediately!"

"Very well, Cyril, Volteer, make your way there, I will round up an escort and a team of our best healers," Terrador ordered.

Cyril and Volteer nodded simultaneously and hurried out a moment later. "Young cheetah, please go collect Sparx, he will want to be there when we recover Spyro and Cynder," Terrador said.

The cheetah bowed low. "Yes Sir, good luck," he said and ran off to go find Sparx.

"_I hope we're not too late_," Terrador whispered to himself grimly.

They had barley put a dent into the fortress of rocks and stone that blocked off Spyro and Cynder. Even with the combination of Volteer and Cyril, almost no progress had been made. Cyril froze another section of the blockade and swung his tail down hard onto it, shattering a very small portion of the wall.

"This is useless!" Cyril shouted. "We need Terrador!" He backed off and began to breathe heavily.

"I agree, our attacks are almost futile against this monstrous stone nemesis, but we mustn't give up, Cyril," Volteer shouted. He breathed in deeply and let loose another wave of electricity the blasted the wall. When the smoke cleared away all that was left was a small burn mark, nothing more than a scratch.

Volteer sat on his haunches and scratched the back of his neck. "Perhaps we _do _need Terrador," he admitted.

Cyril rolled his eyes. "And weren't you the one saying that we shouldn't give up," he asked blandly.

"Well, I gave it my all and it appears to have no strong affect against stone, but at least one of us is trying." Volteer shot back.

"And what is that supposed to mean," Cyril shouted. "Are you saying that I'm not doing my best?"

"Well no, but now that you mention it, you could be doing better." Volteer and Cyril were now face to face.

"Sirs, please stop," A few moles shouted from below them. Both Cyril and Volteer were too distracted with each other to see Terrador land by the wall.

Terrador looked back at the other guardians and rolled his eyes. "What a time to be fighting with each other. Those stupid fools," he murmured to himself. "All moles and cheetahs please stand back," he shouted.

Terrador opened his jaw wide and let loose a flurry of earth missiles at the wall. Each one dented and bent the wall, doing far more damage in a shorter time than Volteer and Cyril had done combined. After a minute of firing at the wall of stone a small crack was made letting a slim amount of light into the cave. The rain poured in and began to flood the floor. "Cynder, stand back," Terrador shouted. When he could sense that she was far enough away he twisted his body and slammed his tail as hard as he could into the wall, shattering it completely.

The cheetahs trained with medical aid ran in immediately and dug around the broken rocks to pull Cynder out. Her body was bleeding from the base of her horn to her tail. From small cuts to gashes a foot long she could barely stand. Both of her wings had been broken from the base, she wouldn't be flying for a long time. Her front right paw was twisted the opposite direction and the small speck of white indicated that the bone had pierced through the scales. Her scales were lighter in color, turning slightly gray from lack of sunlight. Her flesh was almost to the bone; starvation was pulling a key factor in this. Battle worn and overcome with relief she collapsed in the arms of the cheetahs that were carrying her out.

Spyro on the other hand had yet to be recovered from the cave. The cheetahs placed Cynder in the care of the other guardians and began to crawl around on the ground. It was dark in cave and without a fire to guide them, it was almost impossible to see. However, something seemed off. Spyro was not a normal dragon, he could take punishment, and a lot of it, but for whatever reason, he made no attempt to show himself, and no attempt to call out to the others.

"Sir I think I found him," One of the cheetah healers called out after a few minutes of searching, "but something's wrong, Sir!"

Terrador quickly entered the cave and felt the ground beneath him. He could feel the pulse of every cheetah in the room, but he could not feel that of Spyro's. "Move back," he shouted.

"S-Sir," The cheetah answered.

"I said move away, now," Terrador shouted with even more ferocity.

The cheetah removed himself from Spyro's side and Terrador traced his paw around his body. A large boulder had pinned him to the ground, shattering the bones and ligaments of his tail and both hind legs. He felt his body for more wounds. There was no sign of other significant damage other than those of claw marks, large claw marks. Terrador smashed the boulder with his tail and grabbed Spyro. His body was limp in his arms.

Terrador brought him outside into the light as quickly as he could. What he saw was horrifying. His body was crushed, just like he suspected from the tail down to his legs. His wings were on hinges, almost dismembered, many holes had almost replaced the membrane. The marks that he felt were worse than he first thought. What few he thought he had acquired were now dozens. Almost all had turned a sickly green color, infected from the dirt. He placed Spyro on the ground and let the healers get to him.

They didn't have to work on him, from the wounds on his exterior they could already tell, he was dead. For how long, they didn't know, but from the looks of his face, not long. He was smiling; he must have given in at last from exhaustion and pain. The sound of hearing the rescuers outside had put him to sleep, his last sleep.

"Where is he," Sparx shouted. He had just arrived with the cheetah though the rain was pouring even harder now, he refused to give in to the weight that pelted him like heavy stones. "Where is... Cynder?"

Sparx flew to the downed dragoness. She cracked an eye when she saw the little dragonfly. "Hey you," she whispered, she tried to laugh but in turn she coughed up small specks of blood, "How's it going?"

Cynder tried to lift a wing to give Sparx some cover from the rain but cringed as the bone tried to move. "Cynder, where is Spyro," Sparx insisted.

"He should be right behind me, why," She replied.

Sparx looked behind her. A small group of the huddled up healers blocked his body from sight. He quickly flew over to the group. "Where is Spyro," he asked. He had caught a glimpse of his brothers purple scales. They however looked at each other and back at Sparx. They moved themselves together tightly so they could block his body from sight.

Terrador cleared his throat. "Let him see, Cynder as well," he said sadly.

"What's wrong Terrador," Cynder asked. The cheetahs that had removed her from the cave picked her up and turned her towards the group. "Terrador, what happened," She repeated.

The cheetahs covering Spyro's body were reluctant but they obeyed his orders and moved away allowing Sparx and Cynder to see him. Both Cynder and Sparx's eyes widened in horror, Sparx slowly made his way to his brother's corpse. "Sp-Spyro," he whispered. "Hey buddy, wake up man, this isn't funny."

"Sparx, Cynder, I'm sorry, he's gone," Terrador said sadly.

"Spyro," Cynder whispered to herself. "Spyro?" She tried to crawl closer to him; to see him clearly but the damage done to her body prevented her from moving. "SPYRO," She screamed through the rain. She thrashed back and forth unable to get her anger and frustration out. The darkness within her body started to become present as she continued to scream his name. It took several cheetahs to hold her down, and even then it wasn't enough. Her body began to grow larger, sleeker, returning to its corrupted form. After several minutes of screaming she had finally calmed down. Her body had fully grown again, but her mind was still focused on Spyro. Ignoring the pain of her broken paw, she limped silently over to the cheetahs that surrounded his body and sat in the mud before them.

"Everyone back off," Terrador whispered fiercely. The cheetahs did not hesitate; each one moved several feet away as the dragoness stared blankly at Spyro.

"Who was shouting? What's happening," Cyril asked. The two guardians had been completely blind to the situation until then. Only when he looked upon Spyro's body did he realize. "Oh no," he said. He and Volteer were completely taken aback from the sight of their dead hero and the return of the corrupted Cynder.

Cynder lifted her head. "What happened," She repeated, "WHAT HAPPENED! You let him die, that's what happened! You could have saved him if you weren't off bickering like hatchlings. What was it that you were fighting over? Something stupid, I suppose? And now because of you two Spyro is dead! If it weren't for the need of you two as guardians, I would probably kill you both," Cynder screamed. Even through the rain her tears were seen.

"Cynder, we- we're sorry," Volteer said quietly.

Cynder however kept her voice raised. "Don't apologize to me alone, answer to his brother," she pointed to Sparx.

Sparx was hovering over Spyro's body. He didn't look at the guardians or Cynder. He didn't say anything; all he did was silently mourn over the loss of his only brother. He was all that he had had left. He didn't know whether or not his parents were dead from the belt of fire or from the planet shattering into pieces. The anger was put off for the time being, all he wanted to do now was be with his brother.

"Sparx… I… we… we're so sorry," Volteer and Cyril both lowered their heads to bow to the dragonfly.

Sparx raised one of his hands to silence them. "Don't," he said plainly, "not now."

"Sparx please forgive-," Cyril began.

"I said don't say anything," Sparx screamed. His little body was now red all over. "I want you to take him back to the temple and give him a burial, now! I want you to dig his grave with your own claws, maybe after that I will accept your apology but not until you know how I feel!"

Cyril looked at Terrador. He was angry, angrier than he had ever seen him before in his life. He looked over to Volteer who was rounding up a few moles and cheetahs to help carry him in a makeshift cloth. It was going to be a long walk back to the temple.

The rain had not let up, in fact, it had gotten even worse. The sound of thunder boomed throughout the land, lightning striking in several places, an appropriate condition for such an unnecessary loss. It took five moles to carry the weight of the fallen dragon in the cloth gurney. Cynder limped behind the group, refusing the help Terrador offered her. She could no longer stand to be in the presence of the guardians, she hated them all.

The rain seemed to pelt them like stones falling from the sky. Harder and harder it poured down onto the group returning from the wreckage. Cyril hovered over Spyro's body keeping him moderately dry while Volteer swarmed around like a bee absorbing the charges of lightning that struck down. Miles away however, one strand of lightning danced across the sky. Back and forth it zapped across the sky on a path directly for the group. Faster and faster the wave of electricity sped up. Volteer saw the lightning coming and launched high into the air to meet it. However the strand of lightning dodged Volteer completely. The electricity was so strong it broke off and struck Volteer, overcharging his body causing him to explode. He fell from the sky in a heap of smoke and fire. Too distracted by Volteer, the group of moles carrying Spyro did not have time to move away from the path of destruction aimed right towards them.

Cyril's wing was pierced by the massive bolt of electrical energy. He screamed in pain as the lightning exploded around him. The explosion sent dirt and mud flying through the air. The electricity had hit Spyro's body directly, sending surges throughout his body. Back and forth the voltage went, from his tail to the tip of his horn. The voltage was so fierce it had managed kick start his heart. He did not wake but he began to breathe slowly, then faster and faster as his body became accustomed to the repeated process again. His heart was faint, but it was beating again. The moles however were not so fortunate. Instead of life, they were greeted with death. Their fur was burnt away and their bodies began convulsing from the electricity.

Suddenly, the rain cleared. Volteer's body was recovered from a small crater left from his quick descent. He was unscathed for the most part, but a little "Shocked," as he put it. The cheetahs checked over the dead moles. Five more casualties added. The dust cleared from the main explosion revealing Cynder asleep next to Spyro and his brother together. Amidst the chaos, nobody had seen Cynder run in to recover the body, only to realize he was alive again, or heard Sparx's screams of joy as he saw his brother breathing. The two had then succumbed to exhaustion and fell asleep.

"Is everyone alright?" Terrador shouted.

"Sir, come take a look at this," one of the cheetahs answered. Cynder had returned to her normal form again, nose to nose with Spyro. Sparx had taken his usual position on Spyro's horn. Next to the trio was another figure, caked in mud. A yellow dragon, appearing to be no older than Spyro was unconscious next to them.

"What is that?" Cyril asked. He cringed slightly as a gust of wind blew onto his damaged wing. Sensitive to the wind, he kept it held it to his side. Blood was seeping from the freshly torn membrane and was covering his blue scales in a scarlet red coating.

"It's a dragon Sir, and master Spyro is breathing again," one of the cheetahs answered.

"Wait, what," Terrador asked, now by the cheetahs side, "But how is that possible, I thought all the dragon eggs were smashed on the Great Awakening and didn't you say that he was dead not even ten minutes ago?"

"Well apparently this one wasn't," Volteer said. "It seems this one must have escaped somehow, and that would mean that there might be others as well." Volteer scratched his chin in thought. "And not to mention the strange phenomenon to see Spyro alive again. May I take a look at him," Volteer asked.

"Well, shouldn't we be worrying about that yellow dragon," Cyril asked. "Right now he just killed five moles and damaged my wing; we should have him arrested on the spot." He insisted revealing his wing to the others.

"Not now Cyril, and Volteer, you may look at him later," Terrador said. "We just tripled our load, Spyro is in a terrible condition as it is and he needs medical attention. I want to be ready to go in less than thirty seconds," he ordered.

Cyril was irritated with who he was carrying. Cynder was asleep under Terrador's arm and a group of cheetahs were on Volteer's back. In Volteer's arms were Spyro and Sparx resting on his horn. Cyril was forced to carry the yellow dragon on his back while the others flew.

Volteer was carrying the heaviest load but he managed to arrive at the front entrance to the dragon temple before the other guardians. "Go prepare bedding for both Spyro and the yellow dragon, I am going to check our stock and see if we have any more crystals left."

Volteer bent over to let the group of cheetahs off his back. They quickly ran inside and as soon as they had entered they returned with another large cloth to carry Spyro in. Volteer placed Spyro onto the cloth gently and nodded them off. The cheetahs moved as fast as they could back inside the temple with the injured purple dragon.

A few minutes later Terrador had landed by the temple entrance. Cyril was lagging behind by a few miles and it had begun to drizzle. Needless to say, he wasn't happy.

"Is there anyone in the dungeons as of now," Terrador whispered so he wouldn't wake Cynder.

"Not that I know of, why," Volteer responded.

Terrador sighed heavily. "I suppose that would be for the best to keep him in there until we know who that yellow dragon is," he stated.

"Are you sure you're not doing this so Cyril won't complain," Volteer said as he rolled his eyes.

Terrador chuckled silently. "Partially, but first things first, I want you to take a look at that dragon as soon as he gets here. He might be hurt and I don't want any more casualties on our end."

Terrador and Volteer looked back and saw Cyril climbing the last steps to the temple. The yellow dragon was lopsided on his back. "Where do you want him," Cyril asked bitterly.

"The infirmary for now, and try to keep him out of sight, we don't want for him to attract to much attention until we know who he is."

"Right, protect the one who killed five of our guards," Cyril said and rolled his eyes.

"Just go, Cyril," Terrador growled.

Cyril rolled his eyes again and walked off with the yellow dragon. He made his way into the temple without another word and headed to the infirmary as he was told. Terrador however remained outside with Volteer, staring back at the mountains from where they had just come from.

"Is something the matter Terrador," Volteer asked.

"I just can't believe it's all over," Terrador said with a relieved sigh. "No more fighting, no more wars, I just can't believe it."

"I cannot fathom this either," Volteer said in agreement. "So what do we do now?"

"We do what we were supposed to do a long time ago," Terrador said. "We open the Dragon Temple to the public as a school and a home for those who are in need," he looked down at Cynder that back to Volteer. "Although, I don't know how much they will enjoy it."

"So, how do we go about this," Volteer asked so fast it was almost unable to tell what he said. Electricity was buzzing around his feet as he shuffled them in excitement. "How are we to bring this news to the dragons that are still in hiding?"

Terrador scratched his chin. "Well, we could do what we have been doing, search parties, letters throughout Avalar, going from settlement to settlement until we finally get responses," Terrador said, "but, I do think we have had enough excitement for a while." Terrador looked away as he yawned. "We should rest for the time being. Tomorrow… tomorrow we will worry about what is to come." Terrador and Volteer turned to the temple and began to walk inside.

Volteer nodded. "I cannot disagree with you there, Terrador," he said.

Volteer walked passed Terrador and into the temple. Terrador made one final glance back towards the mountains. Finally, the world was still.

Hundreds of miles away in a good sized crater surrounded by burn marks and ash; a black dragon lay unconscious and bleeding severely.

Apes large and small were surrounding the body, hooting and howling in excitement from a new, easy kill. They banged their weapons on the ground as one of their leaders approached the body. The ape gripped the horn of the black dragon and shook it until it woke up.

The dragon's eyes snapped open. It shot its tail forward from under his body like a stinger. The tail blade impaled the ape in the center of it's stomach. The ape had to let go of the dragon and from pain, blood began to stream freely from the open wound and it's mouth. As the dragon was in free-fall it spun around, twisting his tail causing the blade to slice through the ape's insides. Blood poured from the hole and the ape's entrails spilled out onto the floor, shortly followed by the ape himself.

The dragon walked casually out of the crater towards the remainder of the apes. As the dragon walked on the grass, it began to decay and whither. The soil turned gray and the grass broke off like brittle glass under the dragon's weight. The black dragon looked up towards the other apes, his eyes flashed yellow then back to their normal emerald green.

"Why are you afraid," the dragon asked innocently. A twisted, sadistic smile grew until it seemed to split his face. "Is it because you had failed me countless times? No, that can't be it. Oh, I know! It's because you betrayed me when Gaul had failed to capture Cynder and kill Spyro, you thought it was best to go into hiding and abandon the cause, maybe that's the reason."

The apes looked at each other, to afraid to even mention his name. "But, it is as I said before," The black dragon pounced an ape that began to run away. He bit into the ape's throat and pulled back, ripping the muscle and flesh out. The ape gripped his throat as he began suffocate from lack of air, drowning in its own blood. The ape vomited up specs of blood onto the black dragon as it crushed its chest in with its paw. The dragon paused momentarily, eying every ape in the area and continued. "I am eternal."

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><p><strong>Please forgive me for such a late chapter. But now that I'm getting back into the mood of writing, expect more chapters. Please visit my profile to receive updates of progress on chapters and other miscellaneous things. <strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**A little rant at the bottom of the chapter to explain what's been going on. Hope you enjoy.**

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><p>Chapter Two: Corruption of the Mind<p>

It was silent in the temple at last. The birds had finished their songs and were replaced by the crickets and their nighttime music.

A cheetah wearing a hooded black cloak sat in a chair rubbing his temples gently. His name was Prowler, and right now, he had the most horrid headache. So much had happened so fast, the stress had just begun to take its toll on him. He had signed up to the dragon temple to help others, as was his passion, and not even a week had gone by before he had become the head of the infirmary. He knew the repercussions of his work, but he never expected much to happen now that the war was over, not this much at least. Cynder was what he had expected to see. A few broken bones, a few cuts and bruises, maybe some illnesses and infections, but nothing more. Not like Spyro.

Only a few hours earlier had Prowler been relaxing in his office, as was his custom. Leaning back in his chair, his feet crossed over his desk, and a strand of wheat resting under his tongue was what he called "the perfect kind of day,". He shielded his eyes from the sun that made its way through the window above him with a straw hat. The storms from earlier had cleared from the area, and the world was filled with a fresh scent. It seemed like it was going to be that perfect day.

A bird or two would occasionally make their way into the room and perch atop his hat. They pecked away at it, trying to remove a few pieces for a possible nest. Prowler however, had already fallen asleep by that point. His snoring did nothing to startle the birds away, but instead they tweeted back and forth merrily. They finished their chatter and took back to the skies with the stolen pieces when someone had rapped on the door.

Prowler lifted a corner of the hat and peered at the door from the bottom of his eyes. "Now what?" He muttered to himself.

Prowler removed the hat and wheat straw, and placed them on his desk. He stood up and took a moment to stretch his limbs. With a long sigh; he walked to the door slowly, reluctant on opening it. He knew if he shirked off his duty for to long, he might not get to relax like this for a while.

Prowler rubbed the sleep out of his eyes as he opened the door a crack. "Yes, what do you want?" Prowler asked irritably. He yawned and rubbed his eyes again. A yellow blur that was nearly two times his size became visible. "Oh Master Volteer, I didn't know it was you." Prowler opened the door wider and stood at attention immediately.

Volteer chuckled lightly. "Good afternoon to you as well Prowler."

"Would you like to come in? Is there anything you need?" Prowler opened the door even wider and offered an outstretched hand inside his office.

"Oh no, I am quite alright for now," Volteer shook his paw, denying his invitation. "I would love to stay and chat, but I am afraid that common pleasantries will have to wait for another time. We need you to come to the infirmary right away."

"Has something happened? I swear if it's Rigg... " Prowler pinched the fur and skin just between his eyebrows and gave an irritated sigh. "I told him that if he comes in again and it isn't life threatening, I'm going to make sure that he gets a permanent spot in my infirmary."

There had been many sick and injured due to the constant searches and excessive deployment of guards around the temple as of lately. With this came many who faked their problems so they could get off duty sooner.

Volteer chuckled again. "Oh no it's not Rigg this time, we found them and we are in need of some assistance."

"Them, you mean you actually found _them_?"

Volteer nodded. "Time is of the essence, please come with me."

The infirmary wasn't as close to Prowler's office as he would have liked. It wasn't far, but it wasn't close either. It took a good five minutes before the infirmary was even in eyesight, and what he saw was not good. A trail of blood smeared across the floor from the entrance all the way to the infirmary. Prowler ran past Volteer and skidded to a halt when he reached the infirmary entrance.

This was the reason he had been given his position. Volteer, being a long time friend with Prowler, had recommended him personally. Prowler was lazy, he would admit that he would much rather sleep than do his job, but when his job needed him, he was on top of everything.

He ordered the other cheetahs that were part of his staff to move everyone out of the room so he could have some space. Moles and Cheetahs with their miscellaneous problems and short comings exited the room with the escort of Prowlers staff.

Prowler held back a few of the cheetahs. "How many?" He asked.

"Four." One of the males answered. "Spyro, Cynder, the dragonfly and a new dragon."

"A new dragon?" Prowler repeated. Sure enough, a young dragon lay unconscious behind a drawn curtain in the corner of the room, adjacent to the door. "And what about the others?"

"The dragonfly is fine, Cynder has a few minor injuries and Spyro, he..." The cheetah paused and pointed to the floor. Prowler looked to the floor and saw a trail of blood going to the back room of the infirmary.

"I see," Prowler scratched his chin for a moment as he thought about what to do. When he had a plan, he said, "Go and help Spyro while I look over Cynder and the new dragon."

"Yes Sir." All the cheetahs bowed and walked into the back room.

Prowler opened the curtains to see the yellow dragon. There wasn't anything that looked like it needed immediate attention, so he examined Cynder first. He walked around the infirmary and found her under the guard of a few moles at the very back of the room.

"You may leave now," Prowler told the leader of the group.

"We have been instructed by Master Cyril to watch her." The mole answered back. He tightened the grip on his spear and kept the head close to Cynder.

"I do not care what Cyril has ordered, he has no authority over me in _my _infirmary." Prowler returned gruffly. "I do not care if you stay here or not, but you need to get out of the way so that I may work."

The leader grumbled, but kept eye contact with Prowler as he ordered the others to move. They did not leave the room, but Prowler was satisfied.

After a quick washing of his hands, he cleansed her smaller wounds first; patching them up with small pieces of cloth and gauze. Next he dealt with her broken paw. It had been twisted backwards and irritated from the mud that covered the skin. He could tell she had been walking on it and would scold her later. She cringed as he applied some antiseptics to the skin around the bone so it wouldn't get infected. Once he was done with that, he reset the bone and received three claw marks on his arm. The freshly cleaved wound stung from the air, but he could deal with the pain for now. Setting her wings was another task that required another set of claws, this time across his chest. It wasn't the most pleasant feeling for either of them, but it had to be done.

Prowler walked to the end of the room to a mirror and removed his now ripped cloak, he could hear the moles laughing as they exited the room. He used a dampened rag and cleaned the blood off it and himself. After he wrung out the wet cloak he held it up to see how badly it had been damaged. "And this was my favorite one too. I'll need to stitch this up later then, I suppose." He muttered to himself. His ears twitched to the sudden sounds of footsteps coming from outside. He turned to see a few of the females that had returned. Two of the three covered their mouths and giggled to each other. The third, however, put her hands to her hips and shook her head. Prowler's face became bright red. He cleared his throat and said, "Since you've come back so soon, you two can give Cynder your company, make sure she doesn't move much." The two that laughed looked at each other quickly, gulped heavily, but nodded and did as they were asked. The third walked to Prowler.

"I hope that you have something other than this to wear," The female took the ripped cloak and examined it for herself. "Honestly, Prowler."

"Sorry, I'll fix it up tonight," Prowler apologized and scratched his ears. His cheeks burned like fire.

The female sighed and gave the cloak back to Prowler. "Is there anything that I can do?" She asked.

"Y-Yes, help take care of Spyro with the others while I take a look at this new dragon." The female nodded and walked into the back room without another word.

Prowler exhaled heavily. G_reat now she's mad at me. I guess I should hurry up and finish here so I can help with Spyro. _ Prowler opened the curtain to see a yellow, almost gold scaled dragon laying unconscious on the floor. Prowler swiped a candle from one of the stands and used it to test the dragon's eyes for a reaction. When he opened on of the dragons eyes, he almost dropped the candle. The eye was completely black, and there was no light reflecting off of it. A black hole. The pupil was a deep, ruby red color; slitted from the top to the bottom, giving it an almost feral look. He collected his bearings and moved the candle closer. The pupil dilated slightly, and expanded when the light was moved back. _At least that's normal. _Prowler thought to himself.

Prowler made sure to check other miscellaneous things before he left the dragons side. He found the dragons natural 'pocket' and determined him to be a male. He felt the dragons forehead and compared it to his own. The dragon's body was unusually cold, and he was running a fever. Prowler opened the dragons mouth and saw fresh blood rimming his throat. He would need to report this to the Guardians.

Prowler moved away from the gold dragon, washed his hands again, then walked out of the room to the Guardians. They were amongst themselves discussing the issue in private. "Once he is thoroughly examined he should be placed in the dungeons." Cyril huffed a cloud of ice into the air flicked his wing with a growl, shoving away the cheetah that had been trying to patch up his wing.

"I know this Cyril, you don't have to keep repeating yourself," Terrador rolled his eyes. "and don't you think that we should be more concerned about Spyro? He has only just returned, and his condition is critical. Worrying about that dragon is the least of our troubles right now."

"I agree with Terrador. The chances of us finding Spyro, and the fortune of his survival under the-"

Volteer paused to collect his thoughts. "Well it's incredible, to say the least, and we should focus on him first before anything else."

Cyril glared fiercely at Volteer. "Need I remind you that he killed several of our guards not even an hour ago, and you are defending him. Disgraceful dragon."

"Disgraceful?" Volteer muttered under his breath. "How dare you call me disgraceful!" Volteer raised his voice.

"Oh I dare, and I would also call you a failure as a Guardian, too."

"Enough, both of you!" Terrador bellowed. "We do not need to give each other petty reasons for fighting. We must focus on what to do about this situation! Bickering back and forth and insulting each other is not how we should go about doing so."

Prowler waited at the door for a moment then returned back inside and decided to let them continue their not-so-friendly chat in private. It wasn't like he couldn't already hear them from the inside, but giving them the privacy that they need seemed like it would be for the best. The yellow dragon could wait, right now he had to deal with Spyro.

"Spyro..." Prowler sighed. He rubbed his face with both of his hands. That was... nearly an hour ago? Possibly less. There was only one thing Prowler could not deal with in his line of work, and now that he was the one that everyone was counting on, it was harder to take than ever. The one thing that he could not bare to see, even when he was forced to, it was a lost cause. That lost cause was Spyro.

For several hours he slaved over Spyro's body even though he knew that it was pointless. From his external wounds alone he could already tell that he was gone. If not by that, the possibility of internal bleeding was still a factor that could, and with most certainty, would kill him. He had a few hours, maybe a day at the most, but even that was a long shot.

On the hour that Prowler had determined what would happen to Spyro, he ordered him to be brought to his room. All he could do was keep Spyro comfortable in the last few hours of his life, and even then, it was without the ones that he wanted to be with. Sparx, his own brother who was none the wiser of his condition was moved to his own room as well, far away from Spyro's. Cynder was kept in the infirmary, put under by a weak sedative so she wouldn't be awake to see him in his current state while she was still vulnerable the darkness, as ordered by the Guardians. All that was left to do now was check on the yellow dragon.

Now it was late in the night, the sun had long since made its descent. The candle that was used to check the dragons sight was the only thing producing light in the infirmary. It was quiet. A few crickets sat on the windowsill, playing a melancholic tune. The yellow dragon twitched when the sound reached its ears.

The dragon yawned, "It's still dark out?" He yawned again. He stretched his arms and legs out, cracking the joints. "Hey, Conner, you awake?" He asked aloud. No answer. "Conner?"

He sighed as he tried to lift himself off of the ground and stand on his hind legs. A moment later he found himself with his nose firmly planted on the wall. He groaned in pain and wiped his nose, "What the..." He rubbed his eyes with his claws and cursed as a trickle of blood slid down his face. It was to dark to see, but he knew he wasn't where he should be. He saw the faint light of the candle in the corner of the room and stumbled over to it. He opened his other eye and stared at it, letting the light clear away the fog of sleep for him.

When his eye was partially clear he looked around him. There were stone floors, walls, and ceiling, shelves that held an assortment of medical supplies and tools. Then he saw a mirror. He reached up to the shelf, trying to grip the candle with his paw. His paw. His eyes widened and his breathing hastened. Instead of grabbing the candle he pushed the it along the shelf, closer to the mirror.

His scales were a darkened shade of yellow, almost a gold color but with no luster and his chest was a devilish black with a very dark tint of red. Two rows of curved and parallel midnight black spikes ran down his head and connected together on the end of his skull where it met with his neck. The now single row of black spikes continued down his spine all the way to the beginning of his tail. Four ivory horns crowned his head, two beside the beginning of the spikes, both of which had lightning-like shapes carved into them, and two behind his cheek bones. Both of his wing membranes were black, the bones holding them together were a sooty gray. He turned around to see his tail. The spikes ended where the blade began. Two small steel-like daggers expanded at opposite sides of the tail. Where they connected together at the beginning was a hooked glaive that followed the direction of the spikes on his back and clipped off into the hook. The teeth on the underside of the glaive were curved out and dipped back in. There was a faint green substance on the end of each tooth. It was nearly silent, but when he listened closely, it sounded like some sort of acid or poison that was burning away the steel-like material that made up the glaive and replaced it in a continuous cycle. His eyes were as dark as a starless night, his pupil being the ruby of the sky.

"Glad to see at least one of you are awake and kicking."

The dragon jumped, and ran behind the mirror. He peeked around the mirror and saw a cheetah dressed in a black cloak standing on it's hind legs. "Did you just talk?" He asked, unsure of who spoke.

"Yes, is that surprising?" The cheetah answered.

"B-But your a cheetah, y-you can't talk."

"Is that not common?" He asked, confused. "You're a dragon and you talked, why is it strange that I am?"

The dragon looked at his paws, flipping them over and back again to make sure he was seeing correctly. "Good point."

"Sorry if I startled you," The cheetah apologized with a slight bow. "My name is Prowler, I came to check on you, I thought you might still be sleeping." Prowler saw the blood dripping from the bottom of the dragons maw. He collected a small rag and dipped it into a bucket of water on one of the counters. He knelt down and offered it to the dragon. "For your eye."

The dragon peered at the rag then back to Prowler a few times, uncertain if he should or not. His eye was starting to become a nuisance, twitching and burning from the air. The dragon snatched it from his hands with a silence of appreciation and began to wipe his eye.

Prowler smirked as the dragon cleaned himself. "You know, one could say that you look intimidating, but by your actions, I guess the saying about looks is true."

The dragon ignored the insult and stepped out from behind the mirror. His eye was still closed from the cut, but still he looked around himself, taking in the details with his other eye. "Where am I?"

Prowler looked around the room as well. "You are in this dragon temple's infirmary."

"If I'm in the dragon temple infirmary... does that mean Spyro is here somewhere?"

"So you know him do you, how is that?"

"I don't _know _him know him I suppose... I just know who he is." The dragon answered innocently.

Prowler crossed his arms and jumped up onto the counter beside him. "Well sorry to disappoint you, but I'm not allowed to let anyone see him right now, even if you know him."

"Not even Cynder?"

"No not even-" Prowler unfolded his arms and peered at the dragon. "How do you know about Cynder?"

"How do I know what, that she murdered thousands of innocents as the general of Malefor's army?" The dragon inched closer, eying Prowler closely. "Or that she turned a new leaf and helped Spyro take down Malefor?" The dragon looked from the corner of his eye, seeing the outline of another dragon hidden in the darkness... Cynder He paused for a moment staring at the dragoness that was still asleep then looked back at Prowler. "Which one of those would you accept as my answer?"

"I... How did you..." Prowler fumbled for his words.

"So are you going to tell me where he is or do I have to find him myself?" The dragon took a few steps forward, trying to get past him

Prowler blocked him in his tracks, the tip of a small blade planted just between his eyes. The dragon saw the steel of the guard and froze in place. "Take another step and I'll have to add yet another patient to my list, and I don't think that either of us would want that."

The yellow dragon's head twitched the slightest bit then he smiled. "Do you honestly think I'm afraid of you?" He leaned in closer, pressing his head against the blade. Blood began to run down his face. "You must have me mistaken with someone who actually cares what happens to them."

Prowler's hand shook. Not wanting to injure the dragon, he pulled the blade back and cleaned the blood from the tip with an edge of his cloak. "What do you want with him?" The dragon took a step back and sat on his haunches and began to wipe the blood from his face with the rag. "You aren't really making a good first impression with pressing me to tell you where he is when the war has just ended."

The dragon threw the rag away with his gaze fixed on Prowler."If you want a serious answer, just tell me whether he is alive or not."

"Fair enough, he's alive, now what do you want with him?"

The dragon stood up and shook his head. "Being alive and being barely alive are two different things," he answered. "but you did tell me so I might as well come clean." He took a few steps around Prowler and paused when he was in front of Cynder. "He's hurt, I can tell, why else would you not tell me where he is, unless of course you thought that I was a threat to him?"

"If you have a point make it."

"Do you really think that you're in the position to be telling me what to do?" The dragon made another move. He jumped right next to Cynder, raised his tail blade, and allowed it to hang just over her head. "I don't seem to remember what you said... something about me not being intimidating, though, I think playing with someones life is pretty intimidating if you ask me."

Prowler took a step forward, raising his hand in an attempt to calm him. "Wait, please don't."

The dragon laughed as he lowered the blade closer, letting it swish back in forth, nearly clipping Cynder's head. "I can help him, and you can help her," The dragon smiled wickedly. "Give me what I want and she lives, but if you don't help me," The dragon looked towards Cynder then back to Prowler. "I can guarantee that they are going to be spending eternity together a lot sooner."

"How am I supposed to trust you, how do I know that you aren't working for Malefor?" Prowler stepped back to give the dragon some space.

"You don't, but think of it this way; If I was working for Malefor, what would have stopped me from killing Cynder the moment I saw her? I think with what she has done, Malefor wouldn't want her alive and would stop at nothing to make sure that both of them were dead."

"I-I see, just don't hurt her please, I'll take you to him." Prowler knew that Spyro didn't have long, even if this dragon was to try anything, it would be pointless.

"Good." The dragon stepped away from Cynder, letting his tail go limp again. It fell to the floor nearly an inch away from her face. Just next to her, there was an open cabinet filled with herbs of every color and size. The herbs weren't arranged in any specific way and lay jumbled together in several large piles. He walked over to it and looked inside, then back to Prowler. "Now, get a large bowl with boiling water, and something to mix ingredients in."

"R-Right." Prowler was confused from his sudden change from hostility to leadership, but he moved quickly around the room search for the things he needed without question."Would this work?" Prowler removed a bowl from the top shelf of a supply cabinet.

The dragon pulled his head out from under the lower cabinet he was searching in. "Yes, that will do fine, now just get a pot with water," The dragon stuck his head back in the cabinet. "and can I get some light, it's kind of dark down here."

Prowler gave him the candle and hurried out of the room to the kitchen to get the water, not wanting to leave Cynder in the room alone with him. He returned with a pot in hand a few minutes later to see a mix of herbs piled together on the floor, Cynder still unharmed.

"Have you ever heard of organization?" The dragon asked when he looked to see who had come in. "And why haven't you used any of this to begin with? Spyro probably wouldn't need any help if you utilized your resources properly."

The comment came off as being a bit too bitter and stung Prowler's pride. He knew nothing about the dragon, and the dragon knew nothing about him, yet... he was willing to help. Apparently he knew a part of Spyro's condition and still he wanted to do something about it, even when Prowler had given up on him.

"Do you mind if ask you a question?" Prowler asked when he had set the water next to the dragon.

The dragon looked through his pile of herbs and began to sort them out. "Pass the bowl over here please, and what do you want?"

"Why do you want to help him?" Prowler though about it for a moment then waved the hand that held the bowl back and forth. "and before you say anything, yes, I would like an honest answer." Prowler then handed him the smaller bowl and grinned.

The dragon chuckled lightly. "Good call," He picked up a small root and began to chop it with his claws while he searched through the pile for something else. "but before I answer your question, tell me this, why is it that you help others?"

"Well it's my job to help others, I am the chief here in the infirmary." Prowler answered pridefully.

"Well obviously it's your job, but there are thousands of other things to do in life, why not something else, something different?"

"I never really wanted to do much else to be honest. Back in my village, you were either a fighter or a farmer. I didn't like either of those so I picked up on medicine. I enjoyed working with it so I decided to study more on it and help with the war in that way."

"And that's exactly what I'm doing, I want to help not just because I want to, but because it must be done." The dragon brushed off the chopped root into the bowl of water and began to stir with his claw.

"I could never seem to wrap my mind around the common idea that just because you don't know someone, it means you can't help them. I may have come off as hostile to you and I understand why you would want to keep him from someone you don't know, but now, as you can see, there are those who are willing to help in any way they can for the soul purpose of doing what needs too be done."

Prowler stood in a silent stupor. The dragon before him could not be much older than Spyro or Cynder if at all, but his characteristics, his psychological manipulation, and his intelect at such a young age astounded him. It didn't seem natural.

"I'm almost done." The dragon said suddenly, bringing Prowler back to reality. He dabbed his paw in the water and used it to mash up several other herbs into the mixing bowl, making a strange purple cream.

"So what do you plan to do with this?" Prowler breathed in the boiled mixture. His sinuses cleared and he felt more comfortable.

"The water has a few herbs in it to help him relax, and the rest of these I will use if I need to when I get to him, all I have now is something for cuts. Now if you don't mind, I'm almost done and I would like to finish this up as quick as possible."

A few minutes passed in silence. The dragon piled up the herbs he didn't use in another bunch and gave them to Prowler while he carried the bowl of purple cream in his mouth. Prowler stuffed the herbs into a small pack and was left to carry the pot of water. "Are you all set?" He asked.

"Yes," The dragon nodded his head after he took a moment to look around the room, checking if he missed anything by mistake. "If it's alright with you, call me Arin, please." he said before he put the edge of the bowl in his mouth

"Okay then Arin, let's go."

The dragon temple halls were practically empty now. All the guards were given time off, so the halls were deserted. Thankfully Spyro's room wasn't that far away from Prowler's, so he and Arin didn't have to worry about running into anyone in the off chance that there was actually someone roaming around.

It was dark. The moon was the only thing that was giving off light now, so there wasn't much detail that could be made out. A few pillars and open balconies that branched off the side of the temple, several hundred feet above ground.

Arin placed the bowl on the ground and used a wing to cover his body, waiting in the darkness while Prowler sent his staff away. "Thank you, I will take over now."

Four other cheetahs exited the room, however one stayed behind to talk with Prowler. "Well this is a nice surprise, my little Prowler is actually doing his duty without being asked, and I see you actually have a decent change of clothes." Arin peered from behind his wing trying to see the face that was hidden behind Prowler. He didn't need to see the face, by the voice alone, he could tell that the one Prowler was talking to was a female.

"Th-thanks Glade, you all have been working hard lately while I slacked off, so I thought you could use some down time like all the others."

"What's in the pot, something for Spyro?" Glade bent over and sniffed the contents. "It sure smells nice."

"Yes, it's something I made to help him relax for a little while." Prowler chuckled nervously. His cheeks turned red.

"That's very sweet of you," Glade placed her hand on Prowler's cheek and planted a kiss on the other. "I'll see you around." She gave a sly wink and walked off.

Arin could feel her gaze as she passed him, quickly holding his breath then letting it go when she finally disappeared. Even though he was almost caught he snickered when she was just out of earshot. Prowler turned to him, his cheeks were bright red under his fur. "Shut up and get inside." He said angrily.

"Hey, I didn't say anything." Arin picked up the bowl again, his snickering turning into a quiet laugh as he walked inside.

"Yeah but you thought it." Prowler's fur was standing on its end, embarrassed by the interaction with Glade.

Arin placed the bowl down onto the floor by the door. "So this is him, he looks a lot different up close." Arin thought aloud.

"So you have seen him before?" Prowler set the pot down next to him, shut the door and locked it so as not to be disturbed by anyone.

"In a way, yes." Arin nodded. He placed the bowl down beside Spyro and looked at Prowler."Give me a moment to look him over for myself please."

Unlike the infirmary, Spyro's room was well lit. There were only a few candles, but with the way that they were placed, it wasn't a strain on their eyes to see. An assortment of books and scrolls were arranged neatly on their respective shelves inside the walls. His bed was made of a light fabric that looked like silk. The pillows and blankets were removed so all that was left was the mattress. His room was also equipped with a large balcony. On the balcony, a birdbath sat in the center, a pool of water rested in a dip in the ground. The floor of the balcony was made out of stone and formed the shape of a three leaf clover. The railing, unlike the floor and supports, were made of an elegant marble.

It was nice, but Arin didn't come to sight see, he and Prowler still needed to work on Spyro.

He walked around Spyro's body a few times. His wounds had been patched up with gauze. His wing and legs had been set and kept in tight splints so if he moved it wouldn't disturb the work they had done. His tail was still left in ruins, the ligaments that held it together were on their last few strands. All of those were just his exterior wounds. Arin kept in mind that there was still the chance of internal wounds. Heart failure, blood clotting, seizures and strokes, all of which were possible. "Geez this guy is a mess." He said aloud.

Prowler nodded to himself in agreement. Spyro was a mess, how he survived still remained a mystery. All he was told by the guardians was that Arin arrived whenever Spyro was recovered, and something had triggered Cynder to lose control again. But to Prowler, that seemed almost impossible.

"What were the reports you were given when he arrived?" Arin asked without taking his eyes off Spyro.

"Only what you see now, near death and losing the fight." Prowler grimly.

"Were there any storms recently?"

"There was a slight shower earlier yesterday afternoon, but nothing more here."

"Strange," Arin placed a paw on Spyro's body. A strange tingling sensation surged through his paw. "It seems as if he was struck by lightning," Arin noticed a burn mark on his back, close to where his heart was. He felt around the area of the burn mark, Spyro's heart pulsed under his paw, but the beats were erratic, trying to push more blood through his body than normal. Trying to fight off the infections that might consume it.

"I haven't been told anything about him being struck by lightning, but I assume that would explain why Cyril's wing was torn."

"Are you sure he wasn't dead before he reached the dragon temple?" Arin asked, now looking at Prowler.

Prowler almost laughed at the absurdity of the question. "Dead? You must be joking?"

Arin shook his head. "Never mind," He looked back at Spyro, his face showed the expression of agonizing pain. "Give him the water, make him drink at least three bowls worth."

"His body has been refusing almost everything we've given it, what if he spits it back up?"

"Then force him to drink it, I don't care if you have to shove it down his throat, make him drink as much as he can hold in him."

"What about the herbal cream you made?"

"When you're done with the water, apply the cream to everything that is an open wound, I'll start while you deal with that." Arin ripped the bandages off Spyro. His wounds were worse than he thought. Each on was irritated and red with a faint green color. Arin jabbed his side with a claw to test his senses but didn't get the response he was hoping for. He pushed harder inside one of the wounds, and only when his claw fully inside did Spyro shift from the pain. Arin removed his claw from Spyro and sighed "I don't know how well this is going to work but something is better than nothing." He said to himself. He dipped his paw inside of the cream and began to rub it into Spyro's side.

A minute passed, and Arin had completely covered the side he was on and Prowler emptied his third bowl. "He drank it all, no problem here, what is this stuff anyways?"

Arin covered his mouth with one of his wings and yawned. "It's uh... a few herbs mixed together, for some for internal wounds, the most important one was the Valerian root, it supposed to calm the nerves like I said, and help whoever it's used on go to..." Arin yawned again, this time longer than before. "Sleep."

"You didn't..."

"I had to test it, to see if it would work... but I didn't take enough to make me..." Arin's paw smeared the purple cream down Spyro's side as he slumped to the floor.

Morning dawned over the dragon temple several hours later. The sun, not having made it's ascent over the horizon, sent shimmering rays of crimson and red across the skies. A single, yellow dragon paced around the dragon temple.

Volteer had an early night, finally being able to relax and not have to worry about looking for Spyro, but something had bothered his dreams. Volteer had awoken long before the sun rose, unable to sleep from a nightmare he had. He believed it to be stress that was relieving itself through his dream and that it was just a one time thing, but something had been gnawing at him since he arose, drenched in sweat.

To keep warm from the cool autumn morning, he decided to take a walk, hopefully tiring himself out so he would be able to sleep again.

"It felt so real." He couldn't help but speak to himself as his thoughts raced and his steps increased in speed. He made his second pass around the main entrance to the temple and stopped, shaking his head. "I wish you were here with me again."

"Who are you talking about Master Volteer?"

The sudden voice in the dark made Volteer jump. It sounded familiar, the voice cracking with each word. "Riggory is that you?"

"Oh sorry Master Volteer, I didn't mean to startle you." A small mole came into the suns light. He looked to be only a few years older than Spyro. His fur was ruffled and scruffy. He wore a sack nearly twice the size of his body on his back that was overflowing many scrolls, books, and other miscellaneous items. A small pair of glasses rested on his face just before the end of his nose and another atop his head. His right leg was missing, in it's place was a metal plate that supported him. It was surgically sewn into the skin so it would act as his missing leg. "And if you wouldn't mind just calling me Rigg that would be great..."

"That's quite alright, and please forgive me, I have just been a little on edge this morning." Volteer admitted. "What are you doing up so early in the morning? Were you going to see Prowler again?"

Rigg nodded. "The stitches in my leg had opened up while I was testing a new invention of mine last night, I didn't want to wake him up, but now it's starting to get worse." Rigg lifted his leg to show Volteer his wounded leg. The stitches were in fact coming loose, a few had already been pulled out, irritating the soft flesh around his metal leg.

Volteer raised his eye ridge. "What is it that you were making last night?"

"A trap for smaller animals, maybe a few large ones, depending on what kind, just to make hunting a little bit easier." Rigg sat down on the stone floor and removed the sack. He dug inside of it until his fingers hit a hard metallic object. He gripped the metal object, pulled it out, and placed it on the floor in front of Volteer.

"What does it do?" Volteer asked as he stared at the strange contraption.

Rigg switched his glasses and unfolded the metal until it locked in place with a _click_. "The reason my stitches came undone was from stepping on this." Rigg pointed to the center of it. On two opposite ends of the device, a row of spiked teeth pointed up and ended on deadly points. "When something steps on the center of this," Rigg reached into his sack and pulled out a small book. "Then it closes on it," He dropped the book in the center and the two sides slammed together.

"That seems rather painful." Volteer looked at his own leg and imagined stepping on it himself and shuddered.

Rigg grinned at Volteers obvious discomfort. "Thankfully I stepped on it with my bad leg, or in this case, my good leg." He looked at the pierced holes in his metal leg. "I pulled back a little too hard when I tried to get out of it, ripping open my stitches in the process."

Volteer chuckled. "I swear, one of these days you are going to end up dead from these ideas of yours."

Rigg nodded with a smile. "Yes, but at least it's more fun than guarding the temple or going off to war."

It was Volteer who nodded this time. "Yes, that is quite true. Now, I assume that Prowler has not woken up since you haven't gotten your stitches fixed, or more stitches." Volteer whispered the last thing he said to himself and laughed.

"No, I checked both his office and the infirmary, he wasn't in either." Rigg ignored Volteers sudden laughter.

"Well now that isn't good, come, gather your things, let's go find him."

Rigg packed his things in his sack with a merry smile. He liked Prowler, even if Prowler couldn't say the same thing back. Rigg was one of the most frequent in the temple infirmary, cuts needing more stitches, his leg needing readjusting, so he had plenty of time to become acquainted with Prowler. Most of the moles told him that he would never get anywhere by making his inventions, or improving existing ones. That's why he like to be in Prowler's company. Both of them could share ideals and ideas to each other. He may have spent a little to much time because Prowler had been more agitated from seeing him, so he had tried to stay away until it was a necessity to see him. Rigg finished packing his things and hoisted himself up onto Volteer's lowered neck.

"Hold onto my horns to keep yourself stable." Volteer suggested. "We wouldn't want you to fall off and rip your stitches again."

Rigg bobbed his head and gripped Volteers horns. "Thank you."

The temple was still void of life aside from Volteer and Rigg. With each step, the clicks from Volteers claws echoed off the walls and reverberated back to them.

Rigg stared at the statues of dragons were neatly arranged along the walls, each engraved with their own title and history. Akarite: Fire dragon, age one-hundred forty-seven. Fought off the ape invader and general Tagra, killing him and seventeen other apes before falling in The Battle of the Silver Run. Zi'iva: Ice dragoness...

This temple was picked not only as an out of the way location, but because it was a temple filled with history. Equipped with a library that was so massive, it was close second to the Chroniclers library. Thousands upon thousands of scrolls, tablets inscribed in the forgotten dragon language, books of every subject known and unknown lay unread and covered in dust, untouched because of the war. The first thing that Volteer and Cyril had done they had reached the temple was pay a rather short visit to the library. Volteer hadn't had the time that he wanted to read, so he just pulled out a few dozen books to read before he slept every night. If at all possible; he would spend time alone, translating the tablets, attempting to learn the language, but it was a difficult process. It didn't sit right on his tongue when he spoke it. It felt more foreign than it should have.

Volteer looked around him and found that he had just passed Spyro's room. He shook his hips to get Rigg's attention. "Have you ever seen Spyro before, Rigg?"

Rigg had fallen asleep and accidentally kicked Volteer in the back of his head with his metal leg. He snorted as he woke up and his speech was slurred. "Wha- No, no I haven't, why?"

A red knot began to swell on Volteer's head, but he let it slide. "Just curious, I figured this might be the last time that anyone will get to see him, and maybe Prowler came in to check on Spyro." Volteer craned his neck again so Rigg could dismount. When he was off and against the wall, Volteer tapped on Spyro's door a few times. He received no answer. "Excuse me, this is Volteer, may I come in?" He asked politely. Again, no answer. "That's odd, I thought Prowler assigned a few cheetahs to tend to Spyro."

"Maybe they went to sleep?" Rigg suggested. Thinking of going back to sleep he yawned heavily and contently.

"No, I can sense that there is someone in there, three of them to be exact, but I can't feel Spyro at all."

"What do you mean by feel?"

"There are thousands of electric currents that flow through our bodies at every given moment in time. I can sense these currents in all living organism nearby. With age, health, and activity pulling a factor in these currents, there should be more than just three in his room But since there is only three inside the room, it worries me."

"So if there is no current than that must mean they are... dead?"

Volteer nodded. "This is Volteer, open the door please." He received no answer again. Volteer tried the latch to the door. Locked. "Please, if you are in there, stand back from the door."

Half of the door landed a few feet from the balcony, and the other was ripped free with the use of Volteers horns. Arin was still asleep with Prowler laying unconscious over him.

"Prowler!" Volteer shouted when he entered the room. There didn't appear to be any signs of a struggle. Nothing seemed to be wrong with either of them, nothing that could have caused his unconsciousness. "Prowler can you hear me?" Volteer shook Prowlers body. He was breathing, but he did not wake up.

Volteer lifted Prowler off of Arin's body and lay him next to Spyro. The moment the contact between Prowler and Arin was broken he woke up. "What, where am I?" Slightly startled from being woken up in such a rush.

Volteer sighed with relief when his friend woke up. "Prowler are you okay?"

Prowler rubbed his head. "I have a massive headache, but nothing more." He looked around the room, when his eyes crossed over Arin he reached out to him then quickly retracted when he remembered what happened the last time he did that. Prowler saw rig staring at him from around the corner of the splintered door frame.

Only when he was shoved out of the way by a large, light blue paw did he realize that he had been watched. Rigg yelled as even more stitches tore apart. Cyril entered the room shouting. "Prowler, what is he doing in here?"

"Good morning Master Cyril I-"

"Do not good morning me Prowler," Cyril cut him off. "I asked what is he doing in here?" Cyril glared at the still unconscious gold dragon.

"I... he, he was..."

"Now Cyril, I am sure that Prowler has a reasonable explanation for this." Volteer interjected.

"Silence Volteer. Prowler, you disobeyed a direct order from us. You were told not to let anyone see Spyro, and of all the ones to disregard this order it would be you, and with someone who we know nothing about."

"Cyril, let him give his explanation."

"I said be silent Volteer." Cyril shouted. "You need to learn your place and respect those of higher authority than your own."

"Master Cyril please, I was only trying to-"

Cyril stepped next to Arin. "You will explain everything to me in the dungeons along side this whelp."

"But I-" Prowler couldn't believe what he was hearing.

Cyril kicked Arin in the stomach, sending him a few feet backwards. "Get up!" He shouted.

"Cyril!" Volteer bellowed. Electricity buzzed around him as he became enraged by the sudden act of violence.

Prowler ran to Arin's side. "Are you alright?"

Arin coughed up a few specks of blood. "I'm fine, getting kicked kind of sucks though." He smirked at his own dry humor.

"How dare you kick him, what is your problem?" Prowler stood and shouted at Cyril.

"Don't... please. " Arin struggled to his feet. "Cyril, if you want me to go to the dungeons I will, so just shut your mouth already. I'm getting really tired of hearing you talk."

His disrespect sent Cyril over the edge. Cyril rushed him with a headbutt, sending him crashing to the wall. He raised a paw about to strike Arin down when he too was tackled. "That is enough Cyril!" Volteer held Cyril's neck down with a paw. Cyril snarled and snapped violently underneath Volteer's paw. "Take him to the dungeons, do not ask me any questions." Volteer bellowed.

Prowler nodded and dragged Arin out of the room, setting him against the wall. Rigg limped out from behind a column. "Who is that?" He asked as Prowler checked over Arin's body. He was conscious, but only just. His left wing had been broken from the impact and he was dazed heavily.

"I'll tell you later. Go get Terrador and inform him of what is happening. Once he has dealt with Cyril, tell him that I wish to speak with him." Rigg nodded then ran off to do as he was told.

Prowler slapped Arin's face a few times to get him to come to. "Hey are you okay?" He asked. Arin coughed a few times, speckling Prowler's cloak with a bright red substance.

"Where am I?" Arin asked confused.

"We need to get you out of here, come on are you good to walk?"

"Too heavy am I?" Arin was to exhausted to smile, but he couldn't help but give a sarcastic answer.

"Now's not the time for jokes, Arin," Prowler said and rolled his eyes.

"Yeah I'm fine, I just need a hand up," Arin took his time in standing. Leaning on Prowler for support, he made sure that he hadn't broken anything else. "This has been one hell of a morning." He said with a faint grin grin.

"Yeah," Prowler laughed. Suddenly, the wall beside them crumpled to the floor, Volteer and Cyril rolling over each other in the dust. "Come on, let's go."

Volteer threw Cyril away with a heavy thrust from his legs. Cyril crashed through two marble pillars before he skid to a halt. "Stand down Cyril!" Volteer bellowed.

A long, low pitch growl resonated from Cyril's throat. The ground around him became cold and iced over as his rage grew. Then he charged.

Volteer avoided his frenzied strike by dodging out of an open window, taking to the skies. Cyril quickly followed suit and chased him out into the open. Cyril charged him again with his claws, only to slash the air. Volteer returned fire with a few shots from below. Cyril dove down and swerved between each volley of electricity. Volteer ceased his fire and backed away until he was level with Cyril. "I'm warning you for the last time Cyril, stand down now."

Cyril roared and sent several shards of ice towards Volteer. He raised a few feet higher with a single strong flap of his wings in an attempt to escape the barrage of ice. A dull pain rattled it's way from his leg to his brain. Volteer looked down to his right hind leg as he continued to dodge the shards that were still being fired his way. A large spear of ice had pierced his foot, the blood had coagulated around the entry and exit wounds, but it did not stop the bleeding completely. The sky blue ice was now dripping the crimson liquid.

Volteer rose back up higher into the sky. Dark clouds formed around him; coating his body with a thin layer of water. Volteer hid for a moment to collect as much as he could then bit into his paw and shocked himself.

Lightning showered from the clouds, sending dirt and rocks flying every direction. Cyril maneuvered through the onslaught of electricity waves that escaped from Volteer's body. Cyril raced head on too intercept Volteer.

Prowler and Arin didn't speak much as they hurried on their way to the dungeons by Volteer's request. The morning sun had just made it's full ascent over the horizon line. Arin stopped in front of an open balcony and looked outside. Many birds had perched on the stone railing and more flew in to avoid Volteer and Cyril's battle. Arin walked out onto the balcony and stood on his hind legs, gripping the stone railing for support. The birds did not fly away, instead, they moved closer to Arin. He raised his good wing and sheltered the birds.

"They seem to like you." The birds lifted up Arin's wing and screeched as Prowler approached. "Sorry."

Arin's lip twitched into a slight grin. He shook his head and looked up to the sky. For a brief moment, a great beam of lightning descended from the clouds and struck Cyril head on. It dashed around Cyril as he spiraled downwards and hit his back, sending him flying up again. The pattern of back and forth battery continued for another minute until Cyril had gone unconscious. Volteer dissipated his charge and skipped a few steps as he landed. He broke the spear from his paw and lay on the grass, panting heavily.

"He shouldn't have helped me." Arin sighed heavily. Dozens of moles and cheetahs dressed in armor and equipped with their weapon of choice poured out and surrounded both dragons. "All I've done is caused him and the other guardians trouble."

"Don't blame yourself; Cyril has gone too far this time, and he is going to be punished severely for this." Prowler answered with confidence.

"Whatever..." Arin trailed off as he stared into the distance.

The dragon temple was hidden behind a vast forest that stretched on for miles. Below him, he could hear the sound of rushing water that fell into a river that stretched off into the distance. The only clear opening was the courtyard where Cyril and Volteer had just fought. Connected to the courtyard was a flattened plain that led to a group of mountains. A small dirt trail starting from the base of the temple swerved through the middle of the forest, making its way towards the dragon city, Warfang. He couldn't see the fine details of the city, but he could tell it lay in ruins. Buildings that were destroyed from either the golem or the world breaking apart were being rebuilt. The walls that surrounded the city no longer existed, how the city still stood after that was a miracle by itself.

"We should go." Arin pushed off of the railing and turned around. It was then that Prowler noticed Arin was limping.

"Are you okay, your limping?"

"It's just my side hurting, I'll be fine."

"If you want to take a break we can-"

"I said I'm fine." Arin snapped. He cursed under his breath and leaned against a wall as a sharp pain shot through his body. "Let's go."

Prowler didn't argue with him again. He let Arin use him as a support again until they reached the dungeon entrance. Arin was silent the entire time, either the pain kept him from talking or something else was on his mind, distracting him.

"Here we are." Prowler stopped in front of an old door with bars that covered an opening in the center. He opened the door and was forced to step back as an explosion of dust covered his body. "Wow." Prowler coughed. "This place hasn't been used in decades."

Prowler brushed him off and removed a torch that was hung next to the door and used it for light as he and Arin made their way into the pitch black dungeon room. Spiders clicked their way around the room, onto and off the cobwebs that hung from the ceiling and walls.

When the two had reached the bottom cell block, they picked the cell with the least amount of cobwebs and spiders in it for Arin. Once inside, Prowler locked the latch on the cell door, wearing a disgusted look on his face.

"This is my choice, not yours, Volteer's, or Cyril's." Arin lay down on the stone floor, careful with his still tender wing.

Prowler found a chair that was hiding in the dark and brought it over to his cell, brushed off the dust and sat in it. "How is that?"

"I could have left at any chance. In the infirmary, on the way to Spyro's room in the dark, a few minutes ago whenever Cyril attacked me I could of just ran away, you get the point,"

Prowler leaned on the back of the chair, letting one arm hang of the side, "So why didn't you?"

"Where would I go? I don't have a home too go to, so leaving would just make things more complicated than they need to be. Assuming that I am the first dragon of my age to be found, I don't think that either Volteer, norTerrador would want me to leave until they know who I am and if there are others."

"What about your family, surely they must be looking for you."

Arin shook his head. "The only family I have is my brother but..."

"You don't know where he is." Prowler finished for him. Arin nodded slowly, the subject was obviously a sensitive one. "Do you know what he looks like, maybe we can look for him?"

"I... I don't know what he looks like, I don't normally look like this myself." Arin looked himself over momentarily.

Prowler couldn't help but give a short laugh. "You don't normally look like this, what do you mean?"

"I..." Arin sighed and curled into a ball on the floor; facing away from Prowler. "Never mind, you wouldn't understand."

Prowler wanted an answer, but he knew Arin wasn't going to give him a straight and truthful one; not at that time at least. Prowler looked him over for a moment and noticed several white streaks amongst his gold scales. Most of the scars were not fresh, they were gray, dull, and were being covered with newer scales. Prowler used this to change the subject. "So how did you get all those scars."

Arin didn't say anything. His breathing had become relaxed, and his eyes had closed. His tail swished back and forth on the ground; filling the air with dust. Prowler heard a faint crackle in his breathing but dismissed it, assuming it was just him snoring. He looked around the room and spotted a supply closet near the back. He removed himself from the chair quietly and went inside.

The door creaked loudly as it opened, grinding the rust off its hinges. There were a few tattered old blankets on the floor, each one was filled with holes; suitable for a fire rather than for a blanket. It had to do for now. Prowler snatched the one with the least amount of decay in it and returned to Arin's cell. He unlocked the cell door, Arin's tail stopped moving, but the noise did not wake him up. Prowler covered Arin's body with the blanket and left the cell again.

He didn't want to leave Arin. Keeping him down here was like this was cruel. He did nothing to deserve this treatment, and Cyril thought this to be just. He helps Spyro, and in return, he gets his wing broken by Cyril and forced into the dungeon like a caged animal. If he was telling the truth about his brother, that made it even worse. Nobody was there to help him, nobody familiar was with him to give him the comfort if he needed it. It was depressing.

He knew now that there was no moment where he or Cynder were ever in danger. Arin was compassionate, even if he didn't show it very well. What he said about him being able to leave at any time proved that he was noble, and respected the authority of the guardians even under the harsh circumstances they put him in.

Prowler sighed heavily when he reached the first step to the stairs out of the dungeon. Putting his hand on the wall so he wouldn't lose his balance in the dark, he made his way up and outside again. But there was something that he failed to notice. When he covered Arin the crackling wasn't him snoring, it was the blood that was rimmed on the inside of his mouth, making its way up and out onto the floor as he breathed.

Hours passed by in the blink of an eye. Cyril was detained to his room and kept under watch by Volteer and several other guards. "Such a waste of our time." Volteer said when he made another limping pass by Cyril's door.

The healing crystals had arrived around noon. Prowler had been sitting in his office when he received the word. He assumed that Spyro would be looking for somebody when he was better, so the moment he was informed he went to wake Cynder.

Prowler knelt beside Cynder and shook her shoulder gently. "Cynder, hey wake up."

Cynder's head shot up. "What do you want?" She asked groggily. She didn't know who Prowler was, but when she realized it was just another one of the cheetahs she rested her head back down on her paws.

Prowler smiled. "I just thought you wanted to be awake to hear that Spyro is getting better." He hid a few crystals behind his back in secret; waiting for the right moment.

Cynder scoffed at Prowler. "Getting better... no... I saw him, and it shouldn't be long until he's dead. Just leave me alone, if you think this is supposed to be funny, it's not." She turned away from Prowler and huffed a cloud of thick black smoke into the air.

Prowlers grin widened as he tapped Cynder's side with one of his hidden crystals. Her head shot up again. Not from being startled awake, but instead from the red glow that surrounded her body and weaved its way through her wounds. The healing aura fixed the bones that were broken and replaced the wing membrane that had been torn instantly. Prowler revealed the other crystals and presented them to Cynder when she faced him again. "I'm sorry for the delay on getting these. I think someone has been waiting for you."

Spyro opened his eyes the moment the crystals were used. He squirmed and screamed in pain as all of his bones were put back into place, his tail replacing the flesh, muscle and bone that had been lost, and all his wounds closing and getting cleansed from the infections. His insides were on fire. Blood poured from his mouth as all of his organs forced away the taint that afflicted them. Glade pulled Cynder and Sparx away so they did not have to see. When all his wounds had disappeared he lay back down on his bed again, panting from the mix of pain and relief.

Prowler and his staff cleaned up the blood from Spyro and the floor. When he deemed it to be good enough; he allowed Sparx and Cynder to see him. Sparx was the first to do anything. Not waiting for Glade to get out of his way, he vibrated his wings as fast as he could, swerved around her, and slammed against his brother's nose, both arms stretched out as wide as he could make them go. "Spyro!" He shouted as he hugged his brother. "I missed you so much."

"Neet's nokay Smarx." Spyro's voice was muffled. Cynder tried to stifle a giggle with her wing while Prowler and Glade just shook their heads and smiled.

Sparx let go of his brother reluctantly. "Sorry buddy, I just can't believe your here." He wiped a small tear from his eye.

Spyro closed his eyes and relaxed again."Where am I?"

"You're in your room of one of the dragon temples." Prowler answered.

"One of them? So what happened to the other one in Warfang? Was it destroyed?"

"Yes. When the world cracked apart, parts of it fell into the core, so being there is completely pointless now."

"What about Cynder, is she here, is she okay?"

Cynder stepped out from behind Glade, staring at the ground. "H-Hey Spyro."

Spyro opened his eyes. "Oh, hey Cynder." They both smiled nervously. Spyro was weaker than her, but both of their faces turned different colors.

The moment Spyro broke eye contact with them, Glade nudged Cynder with her foot and mouthed silently. "Tell him."

Cynder's face became hotter, her cheeks turned to an even deeper shade of purple. She shook her head animatedly, wanting to avoid the conversation at all costs, but only stopped when Spyro looked her way again.

Prowler chuckled and crossed his arms. "Hey, we need to catch you and Sparx up on what's been going on around here." Prowler moved next to Glade and whispered something to her. She turned to him with bright eyes and nodded. "Thank you."

Glade knelt down on her knees to Cynder's level. "Hey Cynder, I need to talk to you for a moment... In private."

Cynder looked at Glade; her eyes pleaded for her not to go.

"Come now Cynder." Glade tugged on Cynder's arm and walked out of the room.

Cynder rolled her head and eyes, and ran out of theroom to catch up with Glade.

"Hey, what happened to the door... And the wall?" Spyro asked when he noticed the missing door and broken stone.

"Later." Prowler answered back.

Glade brought Cynder into Prowler's office so she could have a private conversation with her. "Before you say anything, please don't try and play this off like you think I'm stupid. I know that you like him, I don't know if it goes further than that, but I can tell that you do, don't try to deny it, your face tells me otherwise." Glade locked the door and turned to her. "Now can you tell me why you can't tell him?"

"Because..." Cynder's cheeks were on fire at this point. She tried to avoid her eyes when she spoke, hiding behind her wing to cover up for her embarrassment. "I don't think you have the right to butt into my personal affairs. It's none of your business, and besides, you wouldn't understand what it's like for me."

Glade placed her hands on her hips and leaned in, frowning. "And what is it that 'I don't understand'? Not only am I older than you, but I have had someone to be mine for years, and believe me; I know the feeling."

"What would you do in my position, huh? I've caused him so much pain and I betrayed him again just before we fought Malefor. I wouldn't be surprised if he never wanted to talk to me again."

"The way to a healthy relationship is to forgive and forget what happened in the past. If you want my honest opinion; Spyro shares the same feelings that you refuse too admit, and that he probably thinks more highly of you than you yourself think.

"If he shares any feelings for me, it would be those out of pity, not friendship or... love..." Cynder looked at the floor, a few subtle tears fell from both corners of her eyes.

Glade knelt down next to Cynder and comforted her with a light hug. Cynder's heart skipped a beat and her body became tense from the interaction. "Please believe me when I say this. If you don't ask him, you will never know." Glade wiped away Cynder's tears from her face. She relaxed.

"So how would I do that?" Cynder sniffed in. "All I have ever known is fighting and anger, so how would I even speak to him about this?"

"Easy," Glade smiled and lifted Cynder's head. "If you want to know what he thinks about you and how to get over your fear of confrontation, then you need to spend more time with him."

"And how would I do that?"

"Prowler, the one who was speaking with Spyro when we left, has asked me if you wouldn't mind doing him a favor."

"And what is the favor?"

"Spyro's recovery was not only because of the crystals." Glade answered. "There is someone who we need you and Spyro to... Liberate, from the dungeons."

"The dungeons?" Cynder reiterated. "Who was sent to the dungeons?"

Glade smiled inwardly. "I don't want to the ruin the surprise for you, so I'm just going to leave that up to Prowler on how he wants too give you the news, but there is someone that we both feel was wrongly convicted and he needs too be freed."

"So what does this have to do with me and Spyro?"

"Spyro is weak and I... We want you to be with him until he fully recovers. The crystals did their job, but because his injuries were so severe and he was left in that state for such a long period of time, his bones are weak and he will need support for the next few weeks until he is able to be on his own."

"That still doesn't explain why I need to bring him with me."

"This is also a test of his strength and willpower. His powers may have been depleted again and it might take a very long time until they return to him if at all. The reason I wanted you to bring him with you is so he can test a few of his elements in a safe environment."

"So you want him to test his powers just to break the supposed criminal from out of the dungeons while he just has me to protect him?" Cynder asked.

"Yes, that is all we ask. After that you can choose whether or not you wish to stay with him."

Cynder thought about it for a moment then nodded her head. "Do you know how long it will be until he recovers?"

"A few weeks, maybe a month."

Cynder sighed heavily. "Okay... I'll go."

Glade stood and unlocked the door. "There is one thing that I want you to know." She said as she stood under the doors frame. "I do not know what you plan to do once he is able to live on his own, but please, don't leave him again. That is my favor." She turned away from Cynder and closed the door. _Click..._

"Arin this way please."

Arin stepped out of the dungeons and shielded his eyes away from the light with his good wing. "A little bright," He thought to himself. At first he didn't feel anything, but after taking a few steps, the sudden strain from walking up the stairs caused him to cough. Using his wing; he covered his mouth. He pulled the wing away and saw a bright red substance speckled across the black membrane. His face lost its color, but he didn't want to say anything too Terrador, so he just shook it off onto the ground.

Arin looked back up at Terrador with tired eyes and nodded. When Terrador first entered the dungeons to speak with Arin, he was in a dazed state. He sat in the back of the cell, staring at the floor, shivering. It was unbelievably cold there. A few times during their conversation, he would put his paws together and push them together until they began to hurt; laughing as he did so. He remembered giving more information about himself to Terrador than he felt comfortable with, but at the time he didn't care, even now he didn't. There was something that he told him that he knew he shouldn't have, but he couldn't remember what it was.

"This is where you will be staying, Arin." Terrador opened the door to a rather small room. Arin had been following Terrador without a single thought crossing his mind. His vision was cloudy, but he could make out most of the room. It was as plain as plain could be, but for some reason, he smiled. It had a medium sized bed, big enough for at least two dragons his size, a window with a view to the forest outside, a few miscellaneous items here and there, and a table for working.

He entered the room and searched around, not looking for anything in particular, but he just looked. "Thank you," He said without thought. "But this isn't really necessary."

"Oh but we think it is. First you-" Terrador's voice became muffled. Now his hearing began to fail him, something was wrong. "-work out this agreement."

"When do I... we start?" His body felt numb, but somehow he continued answering and asking questions.

"Spyro and Cynder will start in a few weeks, you will whenever you are ready,"

"That sounds nice I suppose." Arin jumped onto his bed and prodded around looking for the most comfortable spot. "You don't mind if I go to sleep do you?"

"Not at all, but wouldn't you be more comfortable if we fix your wing?"

"I'll be fine for now, thank you," It was the only thing he could feel then, pain.

"I would prefer it if you had it looked at as soon as possible, but it is your choice, so suit yourself," Terrador chuckled. "Later, if you can, join us for dinner, we will discuss our deal with Spyro and Cynder, I think that they would like to meet you."

"Great." He sighed. Terrador shut the door and left Arin alone in his own darkness. There was no feeling in his body. His vision had left him completely, his hearing had disappeared, and the pain was growing. The blood made it's way up into his mouth again, this time he did not cough it up. He let it sit there on his tongue, in his throat, to tired to swallow, to exhausted to spit it out. It felt as if he was floating. It felt as if his soul left his body, being ripped away by an alien force.

Then, two new feelings came. The first was one of comfort; bliss and tranquility. He felt wonderful, no pain, no sorrow, no grief, it felt wonderful. All the pain that he had ever experienced disappeared as if it had never happened.

_Is this what death feels like? _He asked himself. If it was, he didn't mind. He was carefree and happy. He never wanted that feeling to end, and for what felt like hours, it didn't.

But all good things do not last forever. As the time passed, the second feeling came over his body. This one was not as good as the first. It was nowhere near as good. Now, he hated the first feeling. Anger swept over his body, overflowing like a flood. He hated the comfort, the love, the bliss.

This feeling had a voice. Dark, echoing, it spoke to him. _"Kill them, kill them all. They deserve it, you __were never able to live your life because of them. You are alone here, forever drowning in the pain. __Nobody can save you. You must burn them... destroy them... kill them... kill them all!" _

He screamed himself awake as images flooded his mind. Images of death, loneliness and sorrow took over. He doubled over on his bed unable to bear the pain that came over him.

"Look how easily you all have fallen." A voice laughed around him.

Arin looked up through cloudy eyes to see the shadow of a dragon swirling up from the darkness. He had no form, like smoke; his eyes were yellow, cold, but aside from that, he looked exactly like Arin, not a single difference. With each word the dragon spoke, a darker voice echoed over it. Arin closed his eyes tightly and put his paws together pushing them in as hard as he could. The dragon floated over to him and pulled Arin's paws apart. "Are you still so certain that this is a dream Arin?" The dragon asked. "Well I can assure you, if this was a dream, you wouldn't be able to feel pain now would you?"

The dragon then raked its own arm with its talons. Against his will, Arin did the same to himself. He screamed in pain as his claws dug deep into his flesh. He tried to lunge at the dragon but he just went through its body.

The dragon turned and slammed his paw Arin's head to the ground. "So pathetic, you're not even worth my time." The dragon waved his paw to the window. Arin couldn't move but an invisible force began to drag him towards the opening. "I don't know why I promised him that I wouldn't kill you," The dragon stepped up onto the windowsill, followed by Arin. "But now that I see how easy it is to get inside your head like this, I have second thoughts." A black mist flowed from the dragon and swirled around Arin, gripping his neck. Arin coughed as the mist pulled him outside into the open, holding him just by his throat, strangling the life out of him. He squirmed around, trying to pull the mist away from him. The dragon looked down to the river below them then back to Arin. "How about I make a deal with you, I will let you go and reunite you and your brother, free of harm, but only if you do something for me."

"I thought you were dead, I saw you die!" Arin managed to choke out. From the bottom of his eyes, he glared at Malefor.

"I will tell you what I told Spyro, I am eternal, I can never be killed."

Arin looked to Malefor and tried to summon his strength. He struggled with all his might to send whatever power he had left in him at Maleforat him. Malefor tightened the grip on Arin's throat, making his head go back up, blocking the currents that zapped his own throat. "Don't try that again."

Malefor loosened the hold on Arin as his body convulsed in midair. When he finally stopped he gasped for air, taking a moment to collect himself. He looked back down at Malefor and asked, "What do you want?"

"Well it's simple really, I just want you to kill Spyro and Cynder." Malefor smiled viciously.

"Why don't you just do it yourself?"

"I find that getting others to do my dirty work to be much more," Malefor paused for a moment to think."Pleasurable."

"Go to hell." Arin spat onto Malefor's face. "I would rather die than help you, you sick freak."

"Wrong answer." The Malefor shouted. He willed the mist back to him, letting Arin fall.

The river below him did little to cushion the fall. His ribs snapped and twisted from the impact. He struggled with all his might to stay above the water, but that was impossible. The river was too deep and too rapid for him to stay afloat. Darkness swirled around his vision as the water filled his lungs, sending him on the downward spiral towards death.

The last thing he heard was another voice. Unlike Malefor's, this one was soothing and calm, but the words were strange, alien to him, yet somehow there was a sense of reassurance that filled him._ "Nomeno ui ti dout haurach sia deevdru. coi ui ti dout thatheo ekess loreat nomeno kear, rocen svern, rocen svern vur jinthil..."_ The world went dark as he slipped away.

"Your innocents shall return, I will watch over you, I promise..."

* * *

><p><strong>Life has been really hard for me over these last few months, but now that I'm seeing a therapist every week it is starting to help. I know that this chapter has taken me over three months to be put out, but now that I'm feeling better I am starting to write more again. I really hope that I can get some good reviews and criticisms. Thanks for all the support. - VexusTD<strong>


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